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Slimy Women

There’s a slimy woman who lurks at me as I take the familiar walk down the long corridor to my office suite. She’s a natural beauty product toting archetype of a woman who embodies the energy of judgement. In any given day there is a good chance that our paths will cross. Some days I couldn’t care less, while others I feel more vulnerable and almost want to dare her stone cold demeanor to try and make me shrink. She makes my insides shiver and crawl. There is eye contact always, but never an invitation to connect.

Though her business space is hip and chic, I often associate it with the image of dangling long whisks of sticky webs, catching her prey. I look at her and see a woman committing one of the most common slimy little micro aggression amongst women. “I’m going to stare at you and let you know that I’m so much better than you.” Sounds childish. It is.

As a woman and a professional that is dedicated to the empowerment of them, I am fatigued and frankly disgusted by women who are still doing this. Here is my rant: “Please don’t claim that you want equality for our gender when you act like this. It’s women like you that are a large part of the problem. Don’t mouth words that do not align with the energy you radiate. You are not a feminist if you are rooting for another woman’s failure, particularly when her failure would make you feel less insecure.”

Perhaps she’s a godsend, an angel to her customers, making people’s lives better, but that is not my personal experience of her and that’s all I have to go on.

On my vulnerable days I stare back at her and communicate “I know what you’re doing and it’s pathetic.” Not that many years ago, I would have bought into the lie she is trying to entrap me in and I would have been her victim. After overcoming the most frightening episode of mindfucking anxiety I have ever had, I can proudly say that women like that hold very little weight with me. They are no longer the giants they once represented to me. My mind had made them into archetypal royalty, or aka “the popular girls.”

I don’t want to be liked by her. I don’t want to be popular. Is that really still a thing for perimenopausal women? Deep sighs of boredom come through me as I accept that “yes, it’s still a thing.”

I hope that if you are reading this post I am entraining your energy into bravery. I hope that I am reaching the women who have felt victimized and less than by the behavior of women who are anything but brave. The next time another woman tries to hand you her bag of insecurity, look her in the eyes and think to yourself “No thank you, that bag of shit is for you to tend to.” Walk away, shake her energy off, and keep on your path.

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